An old film friend of mine reached out and said he'd been writing something. I offered to read it.
It was some of his own therapy regarding his love life of years past.
It wasn't anything special. But then he linked me to his own blog and was blown away. I told him so. It was original, had a unique voice, etc etc. I told him this was a book waiting right there. He writes short and simple, with great imagery. I don't know if it is because I know him or if his writing is that good but I really relate and/or get frustrated with the protagonist's views.
Here it is.
He thanked me for my thoughts but wants to write of a different girl right now.
I'm a bit envious of his writing style but remind myself we are all different. I think his story could be more successful than mine ever would be, but then again - two completely different ball parks.
He writes kind of like this;
I'm listening to Creep by Radiohead right now. The dogs are laying on the couch, one is licking itself. I have to bathe them today, if for no other reason than to delay other mini-projects.
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